


[discard all feelings, the stars scar my ceiling]

by Anonymous



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brief References to Transphobia, CSA Trauma, Canonical Child Abuse, Character Study, Drug Use, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Luther friendly, Non-Linear Narrative, Panic Attacks, Parent/Child Incest, Physical Abuse, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Hargreeves Siblings, Reginald Hargreeves is a Monster, Repressed Memories, Sexual Abuse, Sibling Love, This is Unbelievably Sad, Transgender Diego Hargreeves, heavy topics but minimal descriptions, no sibling incest, they kill reggie at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-05-18 09:45:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19332046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: the hargreeves kids were always set to be extraordinary.oh, they would have developed powers regardless of the exact circumstances of their upbringing, but thespecificpowers they ended up with are defined by just that–– the ways they tried to protect themselves from reginald's cruelty.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ooooof so this is a kink meme fill that was super angsty and sad and i really wanted to give it my best shot.
> 
> it contains some sensitive topics, including child sexual abuse (which will not be explicitly described) and physical abuse, along with the canon emotional/psychological abuse that reginald put them through.
> 
> please keep yourself safe if any of that may trigger you.

the hargreeves kids were always set to be extraordinary. 

oh, they would have developed powers regardless of the exact circumstances of their upbringing, but the _specific_ powers they ended up with are defined by just that–– the ways they tried to protect themselves from reginald's cruelty.

they were only three years old, but reginald was already hurting them. he’d shove four or six into place when they didn’t want to do their abc’s or diction lessons, grip his hands too tight on seven’s shoulders when she failed him.

when he slapped two across the face for refusing to wear dresses like her sisters, one clenched his little hands into fists and wished he could be stronger than their father. he wished he could have the power to protect, to shield his siblings.

dad loved one the best, dad never hit one. one is grateful for that, but something nags in his mind that insists that this isn’t how it should be– dad shouldn’t be hitting any of them. when dad raised a hand to three after she made a mess in the kitchen, one jumped in front of her, stopped the palm from connecting against flesh. he held back reginald’s hand with absolutely no effort, pushed the old man away, sent him stumbling a few feet backwards.

“please don’t hurt my sister,” he said, voice coming out more quietly than he’d wanted.

later, six lost a bouncy ball under a piece of furniture, and one lifted it up high above his head so his brother could retrieve it.

later, reginald was more proud of him still, one’s show of disobedience forgotten, unimportant, insignificant.

\- - - - - - -

at some point, ~~seven~~ vanya started to notice that something was wrong with five.

five was her favorite brother, her favorite person. he read books with her, played the piano (badly) while she sang along, listened to her play the violin, listened to her complain about the miserable state of their lives. he was the one that had insisted on bringing her along when they all snuck out for griddy’s donuts, the one that brought her back treats and gifts from their missions.

five saw her as an equal, not as unlucky (talentless, purposeless) number seven. he paid her more attention than anyone else did, and for that, vanya returned the favor.

so, vanya noticed when five cried himself to sleep some nights, then denied he ever did such a thing if she tried to bring it up. she admired the way five talked back to reginald, the way he mocked him when it was just the two of them alone, the way he stole a book on abusive fathers and read it to her and klaus and diego, able to pick apart reginald’s despicable actions and manipulations once he had acquired the right vocabulary.

five didn’t read them the whole book though, didn’t comment on every page of it like they all expected he would.

“what else does it say?” vanya asked. she so dearly wanted to read it all for herself, but it really _was_ safer for five to keep it in his own room, to not allow it to change hands.

“nothing relevant,” five said, doing that pompous little toss of his head that vanya half hated and half found endearing.

five couldn’t stand being touched. he allowed it once in a while, albeit only from vanya, klaus or ben, but even then, he squirmed out of their hugs faster than most would.

when five disappeared, vanya noticed the way reginald showed no sign of missing him. the empty-eyed portrait went up, reginald announced that five was either dead or just as ungrateful as they’d always imagined, and that was that. vanya faked taking her medicine that night, just so she could cry as hard as she needed to, and played the most forlorn violin pieces she could find in her songbooks, barely able to read the music through her flood of tears. it rained so hard that night the power went out on their block. vanya found the candlelit darkness to be rather fitting.

\- - - - - - -

four was lonely. apparently, having six siblings and a mean old dad and a fancy chimpanzee that occasionally spared some time to color with him and the others couldn’t cure four of this loneliness.

on their fourth birthday, reginald didn’t acknowledge the big thing that set the day apart. the closest he got was scolding four for yelling “four is four!” at the top of his lungs, over and over again, with two giggling in joy next to him, and all their brothers and sisters looking on with varying degrees of amusement and annoyance.

“you’ll conduct yourself like a respectable boy,” reginald seethed. “or you’ll face the consequences.”

four bit his lip, nodding his obedience. he couldn’t help himself though– he was just so excited about being a year older! he could feel himself growing bigger and taller and smarter already.

pogo allowed them to watch tv, shuffling through the channels until they found something they liked, while he stood nearby, to make sure they didn’t pick anything meant for grownups.

“ah, this is perfect,” pogo said, as three flicked the channel to sesame street. a group of kids and muppets sat around a table, all wearing colorful cone hats. they were singing a little ditty about birthdays, but it was only one kid’s birthday, the beaming boy in the middle.

“can we do that?” six asked suddenly, hopefully. “can we get a cake and sing that song and wear those hats?”

“dad’s not gonna let us,” five snapped. “he hasn’t said anything about our birthday all day.” if pogo hadn’t told them, four doesn’t think he would have realized it’s their birthday.

“dad’s stupid and ugly,” four said out loud, before his brain could filter anything. “he’s probably a million-billion years old and doesn’t remember what a birthday is.”

“now, now,” pogo tried, but the tide had already turned, everyone but the chimp was laughing wildly.

“w- we can have a party without him,” two suggested.

four sprang up from his seat, grabbed two’s hands. “yes!” he offered six a hand and pulled him up too. he pointed to the tv. “pogo, can we make a cake?”

“i don’t think your father would like that…”

four pouted, and pogo sighed. “why don’t you play some party games, and i’ll see what i can do?”

four came up with the incredible idea to have a pillow fight on top of the couch, but they barely got a couple rounds in before reginald broke it up, angrily red in the face at the sight of children having fun on their birthday. four took the blame, it had been his idea, after all. when reginald denied him dinner and locked him in his room, four was alone again, he felt lonely again.

he tried talking to himself, playing with his toys, but it really wasn’t the same without someone else there. after a few hours of boredom, a little girl showed up, just like that, walking in circles by his closet.

“hello? who are you?” four asked, nervous, but a bit excited that his wish for friends who weren't family had apparently come true.

the girl turned around, and she was bleeding all down the other side of her head. she screamed, and four screamed. he didn’t stop crying until one put a blanket around his shoulders and three and six were snuggled up next to him, offering him one of the cupcakes pogo had managed to make them.

\- - - - - - -

klaus offered five a puff of his joint and five said “no? why do you smoke that stuff anyways? it smells like shit.”

both thirteen-year-olds laughed at the new thrill of the curse word.

klaus shrugged, unsure of whether or not he wanted to answer honestly. “two words: private. training.”

five understood immediately. “what does the old man make _you_ do?”

the weed made klaus laugh about it, made it seem hilarious even though it was awful. “he wants me to face my fears. he thinks locking me in the crypt will do the trick. how demented is that?”

“are you serious? that’s– he can’t do that. that’s psychological abuse. i hate him, klaus.”

“if i’m stoned, they’re way quieter,” klaus explained. “but still.”

“ _still_ ,” five hissed. he opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again. “he makes me practice my spatial jumps until i’m exhausted. a few weeks ago i got so tired i puked because he wouldn’t let me rest.”

“he’s an asshole,” klaus declared, wishing he could tell reginald that to his face.

“we’re leaving,” five said. “me and vanya and ben are gonna leave this place someday and you can come too.”

klaus shimmied a little from his seat on five’s desk chair. “awesome sauce, five. hey! why did you never get a name?”

five rolled his eyes. “i refused one, remember? out of pure spite.”

“ah, i can respect that,” klaus said. “but like… ” he leaned forward, hands cupping his chin. “what would your name be if you could pick one? did mom ever tell you where you’re from? you look like you’d have a pretentious french name like marcel… or maybe a normal name like jacob…”

"actually, i do want some," five said, pointing at the joint. "i think i need it just to keep listening to you talk."

\- - - - - - -

seven didn't like oatmeal. it’s flavorless, and the texture always made her feel sick. her father didn't care, he never ever asked her what she would actually _like_ to eat for breakfast.

seven hated him as much as a four-year-old can hate anyone.

she hated the way he hurt her brothers and sister, she hated the way he talked to them like they were stupid, she hated the way he seemed to hate them. he never gave them names. people on tv and in books and movies had beautiful proper names, and seven and her siblings had numbers. the numbers didn't mean anything, not the way that jessica means ‘gift’ and alexander means ‘defender of mankind.’ she heard those on tv, and she wished she were named something special, not seven.

he pushed her sometimes, grabbed her too tight, but he never hit her, not the way he hit everyone else but one. one was probably his favorite.

one could carry heavy things, and four could see ghosts everywhere. one took great pride in his ability, but four was constantly shaking and shivering in fear, because apparently ghosts were loud and terrifying. ghosts are also dead, and seven didn't like thinking about death at all. being surrounded by reminders of the worst thing in the world (right after oatmeal) must be horrible.

four wasn't always scared, though. some things still made him really happy, like singing along to pop songs on the radio. one summer evening, he put on a show for seven, three and six, wearing three’s skirt and strutting around dancing.

reginald called it a ‘disgraceful display’ and gave four a split lip.

seven gaped at him, fury building up somewhere deep inside her until it spilled over and she screamed, and the sound from her screaming resonated the way reginald’s treatment of them had been resonating through the house, through the children’s hearts. windows shattered and reginald stumbled back, amazed.

\- - - - - - -


	2. Chapter 2

it was bothering luther, the way five had so thoroughly rejected his and allison’s attempt at offering him comfort.

“do you think five’s… okay?” luther wondered aloud, as they walked to the surveillance room. “i mean, you saw that, right? he stopped my hand like he thought i was gonna hit him. why would i hit him when he looks like–?”

allison shook her head. “we don’t know what he did in the future, or wherever it was that he went. he hasn’t told us anything other than ‘it was shit.’ god, i worry about him.”

a tightness squeezed at luther’s chest. five might be older than all of them, he might be tough and no-nonsense as they come, but he’s still a kid. kind of. “well, don’t let him hear you say that,” luther said, in a halfhearted attempt at a mood-lightener.

but the thing was, the more luther thought about it, the more he realized that five had always been that way. he’d always been furtive and defensive and self-reliant, he’d always used his powers to get away from brotherly roughhousing and awkward sibling embraces alike.

how did he get that way so young? who would–?

dad would.

dad had smacked most of them around every now and then, and private training had been a personalized hell. luther’s strength had limits, and reginald had been intent on finding out what those were, no matter the costs, no matter if it made luther hurt. once, he'd tried to make luther pick up a shell of an abandoned building and it was too heavy. it made luther's muscles and bones ache for days on end. who knew what he'd done to the others. reginald had been cruel, and a part of luther knew that.

but dad had loved them. he’d done everything for the greater good, that was all. it was safer that way, if luther knew what his limits were through trial and error, safer than growing up thinking he was invincible. _~~but the hitting–!~~_

the hitting didn’t happen. okay fine, it did, but it wasn’t that bad, and it had happened less often as they got older. once grace was in the picture, they were always taken care of right away, no problem, she kissed all their bruises better.

even so, for as much as luther constantly tried to excuse and defend the man, he couldn't help but shudder as he looked up at one of reginald’s many looming portraits.

\- - - - - - -

four always complained that they spent too much of their allotted free time watching people have fun on tv, instead of going outside to meet actual new people and having real life fun with them. three disagreed.

last she’d checked, real life didn’t have amazing music everywhere, or bold colors, or happily-ever-afters.

three was learning to be whatever she wanted to be by watching characters on the screen. on screen, nothing was impossible, nothing she did was wrong if she was playing a character, and she could always change the story when she saw something she didn’t like.

in her version of the lion king, nala saved the day and defeated scar, because five said that in the wild, girl lions are tougher than boy lions, and three liked the sound of that a whole lot.

she wished she could change the story of the hargreeves house, rewrite the bad things like a director yelling “take two!” so to give their father a different direction.

three wished she had a special talent like one, four and seven, even if four was afraid of the ghosts and seven kept making them get new nannies. she wanted her talent to be acting, so she could walk the red carpet in pretty dresses and heels. she wanted to be a star so bright that her light would shine down on everyone, and dad wouldn’t be able to look away if he wanted to.

the movies made her brave sometimes. she snuck into reginald’s room one day, pretending to be someone else, looking through his closet and books and desk drawers where everything smelled like tobacco and gunpowder.

when he inevitably caught her, hands on his hips, face pitched in stern disapproval, three braced herself for the worst, but prepared to go out with a bang. “you big horse’s ass,” she said, unsure of what the curse meant as she recited a line from that funny christmas movie with the burglars.

_that_ caught the old man off guard. three giggled at his sputtering. “what did you just say, number three?”

three pretended she wasn’t afraid of him. what a challenging role that was. “keep the change, you filthy animal.”

he grabbed her arm too tight. three was used to the sting of his nails digging into her skin, but that didn't make it any easier to feel. “i don’t know what’s gotten into you today. i believe that television is a bad influence. pogo will have to throw it away in the morning.”

“no!” three shouted, trying to fight her way out of his hold. she wished she could make him listen. a song popped into her head, and she wove the lyrics together with some words of her own choosing into just what she needed: a neat little phrase to change his mind.

_“i heard a rumor that you left me alone!”_

from that moment on, three was untouchable. she stopped reginald from hitting her every time he raised a hand, stopped him from throwing out the tv, made pogo get her and four all the barbies from the toy store, made a woman on the street give her a hundred dollars just because she could.

she protected her siblings from their dad as best she could, but the one rumor she wished would come true more than any other –– _“i heard a rumor that you actually loved us”_ –– never took hold no matter how many times she tried, because three’s magic words could only control actions, not emotions.

\- - - - - - -

despite how complex and realistic grace’s external design and internal hardware were, sir reginald hargreeves considered her to be a very simple machine. her only programmed goals were to take care of the house and ‘mother’ the children. reginald had referred to these objectives as simple when she woke up, claimed that nothing could be easier, but grace very quickly learned better.

see, along with her programmed goals, grace also had a lock on her systems that prevented her from ever disobeying her creator.

mothers are supposed to love and protect their children unconditionally, but grace had been built with terms and conditions. grace was forced to stand idly by while reginald snuffed their lights out one by one.

her code didn’t allow her to step in when she heard his tirades, or saw him hurt ~~a child~~ one of [ _her_ children. ] but she bent that silly code more and more every day to permit her acts of kindness, her moments of very human compassion and empathy. she planned to bend it until it broke.

when number two came to her, choking on tears, explaining to her how wrong his body felt and how much he wanted reginald to accept that he was a boy, he had always been a boy, despite what his birth certificate read, grace had held him, grace had allowed herself to understand. she searched all the databases she could find to help him transition, because diego was so very precious to her.

vanya went quiet and somber after reginald lied to her about her powers and barred her from being a true part of his academy. she found friends in number five and ben, but after five was gone, she withdrew further and further into herself. grace showered her with praise and compliments that made the girl’s voice hitch with emotion when she mumbled her thank yous.

it was incredibly sad to see klaus tumble into addiction the way that he did. he’d been such a sweet and bubbly little boy, always bursting at the seams with love, but by the time klaus was a teenager, he was self-destructive and ornery. grace didn’t know how to help him. every time he had an especially bad trip, all those times he overdosed, well –– grace didn’t have human senses by which to register pain or fear, but she always felt her monitor seize up and her processors whirring faster, and she knew that had to mean _something._

allison was starved for love and affection. grace loved her, grace showed her affection, but it wasn’t enough, not when reginald was so cold and vacant that allison’s hunger for adoration evidently could never be sated. grace warned her there was a time and place to use her gift, but allison was beyond caring, and grace didn’t like to calculate to what ends this would bring her.

before he’d gotten his powers, grace would find five curled up in a ball in the corner of his room sometimes, looking hollow and shaky. she always stayed with him, read him books until he was ready to talk again. after he’d gotten his powers, he was impossible to pin down, even as grace saw the sadness / anger / [ hurt ] that always remained just below his veneer of arrogance.

ben came back from every mission looking worse and worse. luther came back with his head held high and a proud grin on his face.

ben was so sensitive, so troubled by the violence he was capable of. luther enjoyed being a superhero, and he genuinely believed that what they were doing made the world a better place.

ben would mutter to himself over and over that he wasn’t a monster, that he’d only been doing what the academy had asked of him. luther took all his father’s words to heart, even the false and selfish ones.

ben was visibly unwell, and reginald never cared, reginald pushed him until he got cut up so bad that grace couldn’t save him.

luther struggled with ben's death the hardest out of anyone.

\- - - - - - -


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this chapter has some potentially triggering stuff (more so than the two previous):
> 
> the first section (before the first dashed line break) doesn't have anyone actually getting sick, but it's got a minor bit of description that may be triggering to emetophobes.
> 
> the third segment (after the second dashed line break) is where we finally get into the csa trauma portion of this fic, and it's more implied than overtly stated in this chapter, but it is there. there is also a scene of a panic attack and some internal victim-blaming (as a coping mechanism that is.. obviously not correct).
> 
> also sidenote: i'm not trans, so if you are and you catch any part of diego's experience not being written accurately, please let me know and i will fix it RIGHT AWAY. 
> 
> please read with caution!

when more than half of the hargreeves children revealed themselves to be special, the others (the normal children), became the oddities. reginald saw them as deficient, and made this view plainly obvious to them.

“every day that you remain powerless is another day of private training lost,” he would sneer. “the fate of the world will rest in your hands someday!”

six felt disgusting whenever reginald said things like that, like his insides were tangling themselves up into knots, threatening to– well, he didn’t know exactly what, but it didn’t feel good.

five and two were also 'late bloomers,' or so they all hoped. six confided in them often, and for a while they formed their own little ‘ordinary boys’ club’ that would more likely than not disintegrate the second one of them formed any gift of use to the academy.

when two was around reginald, he puffed his chest out, tried to seem tougher and stronger than the four-year-old boy (and he _was_ a boy, six knew this no matter what reginald said) that he was. but when he sat with six and five in the backyard during their free time, he let himself be soft-hearted and scared. “dad’s m- mean. the kids in the books m- m- mommy reads to us don’t have mean dads like that.”

“he never listens to us,” six agreed, eyes darting around the backyard to make sure they were truly alone. “he barely even listens to three, and she can make _anyone_ listen.”

“a- at least three’s good at her t- training. four doesn’t even like his power!”

“and he always says seven’s out of control,” five grumbled. “maybe if he was nicer, she wouldn’t be.” he pulled some grass out of the ground beneath them and put it on six’s lap, making two and six laugh. reginald hated how much of a defiant know-it-all five was. sometimes, he got this _look_ in his eye when he was scolding five that made six’s guts squirm even more, though he couldn’t describe exactly why.

that evening at dinner, their father wouldn’t let them talk, as usual. there was no sound but the clinking of utensils and a lecture on striking opponents on the crackly record player. he didn’t look up at anyone, and they barely looked up at each other. all was exactly as usual, but six felt all wrong.

he clutched at his stomach, gasping in pain. he struggled to his feet, hoping standing up would fix it. “dad?”

“sit down, number six. you haven’t touched your meal.”

it didn’t hurt like that time he’d eaten a rotten apple and thrown up. it hurt like the tubes that take food around his body (six didn't know what they were called, he'd only seen a drawing of them in a book) were thrashing, writhing, hungry, like he had something inside him that was suddenly very angry and finally awake. “i- i need–”

reginald squinted at him. “what is it, boy? are you sick?”

reginald was making him sick, six was certain of it. six opened his mouth, but nothing came out. he opened the deep void in his stomach, and six otherworldlypowerfuldangerous tentacles came out.

\- - - - - - -

seven didn’t have any powers, and neither did five. two was okay, he was fine, it wasn’t a big deal, except that it was. he was two, he was one after being the top of the list. he was one after _one_ , and that was the worst thing of all.

one was such a perfect boy and he didn’t have to try. one hadn’t had the awful years that two had been forced to experience before grace cut his hair and before finally, when he turned six, reginald caved and allowed two to be himself, if only to stop him from putting up such a fuss.

one was strong, three was smart, four was scared, six was scary. their father didn’t let seven train with them anymore, and sometimes two wondered why.

five tried reading everything he could, staying up all night to try and awaken some dormant power he might have. two tried sitting still, closing his eyes and holding his breath, waiting for the ability to shoot lasers from his eyes or run faster than a racecar. some nights he was worn out from sparring practice and he’d fall asleep after a few minutes, and other nights, he’d wait hopelessly for hours.

it wasn’t until four and three had a breath-holding contest and both gasped for air after hardly any time had passed that diego realized he did have something special about him.

“dad!” he shouted, running to reginald more happily than he ever had in his young life. “i have a power!” he brought his father to the bathtub he’d filled up to the brim and climbed in, clothes and all.

as the minutes passed and two remained submerged, he smiled to himself in glee underwater. he pulled himself out after singing as much as he could remember of the goofy movie’s soundtrack in his head (that must have been an impressive time, it was six whole songs, plus pauses where he had to stop and think of what was hopefully the next lyric).

reginald’s eyebrows were raised, but he didn’t wear the shocked and amazed look that two had been hoping for. “hm. it seems you _are_ somewhat special, number two.”

“s- s- somewhat?”

“well, it’s not a terribly useful power for combat.”

two huffed, scowled, stomped at the floor in frustration.

“are you really so upset by my honest assessment? collect yours-”

but two didn’t stay to hear the rest. he ran down the hall, down the stairs, all the way to grace. his mom let him cry into her skirt as she stroked his hair and murmured some comforting words.

“hey, two? what’s–”

reginald pushed four aside. grace’s hand tightened on two’s shoulder, but it was protective, not oppressive, it felt completely different than when reginald did the same.

“just because you evidently do have an ability, that does not give you the license to behave so unacceptably.”

two felt his eyes water again, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. “dad, p- p- p- please…” he didn’t finish the sentence, but he wanted to say ‘notice me. appreciate me. love me.’

“and how many times must i tell you to learn to speak properly? you sound positively imbecilic.”

two swiped at his steadily falling tears and wrenched out of his mother’s grip. he pulled a knife out of the kitchen cabinet and– before anyone could say or do anything to stop him, he threw the knife, and it soared through the air, weaving around his father, his siblings, the furniture until it struck true, right where he’d wanted it to go: directly in the center of one of reginald’s portraits.

two powers. two had two! powers!, and his father still saw him as second best.

\- - - - - - -

as soon as they made it back to the past, back to the year 2002 where they were all thirteen again, five collapsed. the last thing he saw was luther moving from where he’d put vanya down, swerving awkwardly to try and catch five before he hit the ground and then–

“-the only one that knows what’s going on.”

“i resent that, you don’t–-”

“come on guys, we need to be quiet, or–”

“shh! he’s waking up!”

five blinked his eyes open slowly until the blurry, concerned faces of his siblings (all of his siblings, including ben) were before him. he groaned at the soreness in… well, every single atom of his being.

“welcome back, champion,” klaus said with a nervous giggle.

“you uh– you just saved our lives from… well, you know,” luther explained, as if five required an explanation.

“are you okay?” allison asked, pressing her hand against his forehead and learning in close to check his vital signs.

five stiffened at the contact but he wasn’t strong enough to warp himself away. to get to that level again, he’d need– “gatorade. i need gatorade.”

allison looked skeptical, worried. “not coffee? thought that was your drink of choice?”

“not right now. when i was an actual kid, _like_ i'm supposed to be right now, it was always gatorade. asking grace for gatorade looks way more normal than–” he winced as he tried to sit up, with klaus and allison’s careful help.

“not to be that person,” klaus began sheepishly. “but what…” he made a tiny confused sound. “what are we doing?”

“didn’t you hear five? we’re fixing vanya,” diego snapped. he gestured to their sister, who hadn’t spoken the whole time they’d been there, and was still staring listlessly at their surroundings.

“but what did he even mean by–” ben stopped, realizing that everyone else could see and hear him, and yes, he was alive again. “five? are we here for good?”

“you brought us back kinda far, to be honest,” klaus said. “not that i’m not grateful, liebling. but you have to know that this was the age i started using, so. this all might be kind of overwhelming.”

“oh my god,” five said, slumping down on– okay. vanya’s bed. not what he’d intended, but good. “klaus, i’m sorry for you, i really am. but you’re just going to have to deal somehow. i’ve only ever time travelled _by myself_ twice, both with unfortunate results. until tonight, when i brought all of y’all back seventeen years exactly. none of the rest of you seemed to have a better idea, you really shouldn’t be so picky.”

“sor-ry,” klaus singsonged back.

“what ever happened to the butterfly effect though, five?” luther asked, putting on his best number one face. “won’t this maybe mess things up in the future? will we ever go back to our regular lives in 2019?”

five rolled his eyes, hard. “no. we’re going to help vanya control her powers, i’m not going to run away, and we’re going to stop ben from dying. things will only be better in this timeline’s future. we’re staying here for the long haul.” allison came back with his requested drink and as much as five wanted to chug it, he made himself drink it in sips, so as not to overwhelm him.

diego gritted his teeth. “see, i’m thankful that you saved us. thank you. but i really wish we had more of a choice in whether or not we have to live with our abusive father for another four or f- f- five years. d- _damnit._ ”

“mom’s also here,” luther interjected. “won’t that make you happy?”

“yes. i d- don’t know why you sound so confrontational about it––”

“hey. i’m hungry,” ben said, a grin blooming on his face. “i haven’t felt hungry in–”

“jesus, fuck and shit hell, vanya, you’ve got a dead guy hanging over your head.”

“don’t tell her that, klaus! she really doesn’t need to hear that right now,” allison said, exasperated. she looked to five for help, but five was starting to doze off, the sound of his siblings’ bickering acting as white noise for him until––

“just _what is going on in here?_ ” their father demanded as he stormed into the room.

five startled awake. he hadn’t heard that voice in decades. he’d assumed he could handle it, he’d thought it wouldn’t matter because it didn’t matter, five _didn’t_ want to run away at the sight of reginald’s face, five was stronger than this, wasn’t he?

it all happened such a long time ago, and five was so very good with time.

it didn’t happen, nothing happened (nothing he hadn’t deserved).

nothing happened at all, not as long as he never lets himself think about it, because thinking about it would mean that it happened. keep running, _keep running until he can never find you, number five…_

_this might be hell on earth but it’s better than––_

_“you’re a great disappointment to me, five.” now where had he heard that before?_

“what does it look like?” five challenged, channeling all the quiet power he’d learned at the commission. “we’re having a sleepover.”

“five wasn’t feeling well,” vanya replied, voice husky and quiet. “we were just making sure he’s okay.”

diego was openly glaring daggers into reginald, probably fantasizing about throwing literal daggers into his chest to match.

 _“i heard a rumor you went back to your own room and left us alone for the night,”_ allison ordered. when their father left, she clapped a hand over her own mouth, looking terrified.

“you d- did what you had to do, ally,” diego said, looking vaguely impressed.

“hey, five?” vanya asked so gently it tore at five’s heart a little. she pushed past everyone else so she could sit on the ground next to her bed and that got everyone’s attention to the fact that five was breathing choppy, too fast and too shallow, clenching and unclenching his hands on vanya’s blanket as if trying and failing to get a grip on the world around him.

being in the house, with reginald right there, right above them in the attic room, the room that was on the same floor as five’s own, it would have been so easy for reginald to–

being in the house with reginald was potentially not worth all of them surviving the apocalypse.

\- - - - - - -


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE TW FOR CSA IN THIS CHAPTER
> 
> it's not full-on, explicitly described in the slightest but it’s finally talked about in full here

klaus was the first to understand what was happening after vanya. “whoa.. do you wanna tell us what’s going on, five?” his voice was soft and soothing, but the question and its answer anything but.

five shook his head harshly. “i– i can’t talk about it. _i can’t–”_ he was acting childish and he knew it, but he didn’t know how to stop.

“that’s okay,” klaus said. “we just want to help you. we can sit here with you for as long as you need.”

that would take forever. five almost laughed at the thought. he looked at the clock next to him, watched as the numbers changed to signal that another second had passed.

“you’re sc- scaring us, m- man,” diego said, voice gone a little pleading. “you know we can help you through anything, right? we survived the end of the w- world. there’s n- n- nothing this family can’t handle.”

“hey, easy dee," klaus said, holding up a hand at diego. "don't want to put too much pressure on ol' fiverino.”

ben made a grab for five’s hand, and five flinched, hands flashing blue, but nothing happening in his current exhausted state. “sorry. i’m sorry. it’s okay. just breathe for me, five. come on, you can do that. you’re the best at everything, right? so i bet you can breathe better than i can, i mean–– i’m pretty out of practice, being an ex-ghost, you know.” ben drew out his inhales, held his breath for a number of counts, and gave long exhales, waiting patiently until five could fairly easily do the same.

when the waves of panic settled down into ripples, five’s first instinct was to lash out and push everyone away with his carefully maintained cruel streak– to scold them for daring to see him as weak, to cut them down into bits so they couldn’t see how sliced-up he was. _guess your stutter's back, diego, how about that? you can use your powers again, allison, are you gonna repeat all your old mistakes in this timeline, or find new ways to ruin your life this time around?_

that wasn’t what he really wanted though, so that wasn't what he did. _five actually wanted to tell them_. it wouldn’t be a complete picture. he couldn’t remember it all, he couldn’t remember when it had started, he could only remember when it had stopped, but even that would be _something_. maybe it would be like that time he got hurt at the commission and passed out at harold jenkins’ house? like five had a gaping, bleeding wound that he could only cover up for so long, one that required his siblings’ immediate help and attention if he wanted to heal, to survive– and he did want to, that was all he had ever wanted to do.

“i–– alright,” five struggled to say. “now, don’t you dare interrupt me, because i won’t be able to– i won’t be able to keep talking unless it’s quiet and i’m not letting myself _feel._ ”

the tension in the room went up about a hundred extra notches. five kept his gaze fixed solidly on the floral pattern of vanya’s blanket.

“dad used to– hm.” he shuddered. “i didn’t get my powers until we were seven. dad always let me spar and train with the rest of you though, i guess––” he looked up at vanya. “i guess to make vanya feel even more like shit.”

“m- motherfucker,” diego cursed, the word sounding strange and out of place in his thirteen-year-old voice.

“he was disappointed in me.” five forced the words out of his mouth like they were bile. “he used to make me…”

_“you’re a great disappointment to me, number five. so much potential, and yet you remain useless to our cause.”_

_“sorry,” five muttered. “i’m trying.” he tried to step back, move himself away from his father’s reach, but reginald’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, held it bruisingly tight._

“i don’t– i don’t think it happened just once, but i don’t remember the other times, if there were other times.”

_“i’ve made it perfectly clear that if you ever tell anyone about this, it’ll be number seven in your place… we simply must break that rebellious streak of yours.”_

“he... molested me,” five admitted, out loud, for the first time since he’d told delores in the ruins of the library. he kept looking down, though he saw his siblings’ faces and body language shift in a matter of seconds out of the corner of his eye. “i don’t– i don’t know why. i mean, i guess he saw it as punishment or something, some of his reginald hargreeves bullshit, i don’t know.”

_five had wanted to disappear–_

_no, he'd wanted to escape. he grasped at the air, saw time and space around him as a bendable fabric, a pool he could swim through. he pulled, twisted his hands, and then, he_ jumped.

_reginald had never done it again after that, because five pushed himself to be so fast and dangerous that no one else could ever lay a finger on him again._

vanya was crying silently, sinking down onto her bed beside five. “i’m so sorry. you know you didn’t deserve that, right? because you didn’t. that’s not an open-ended question.”

“he said he’d do it to you if i ever told anyone,” five blurted out. “vanya, i couldn’t let that happen to you too.”

“he really was a monster,” luther said. “i wish i would have seen it sooner. i wish we could have protected you then.”

“you did the best you could to survive, luther,” five said. “we all did.”

“well, now we can do better,” diego said, pulling out one of his knives and turning on his heel to walk away.

“diego, wait!” allison grabbed the back of his shirt to stop him. “that’s not what five needs right now. he needs support, not _vengeance._ ”

diego gritted his teeth, shook his head. “you’re telling me this doesn’t make you want to murder that–– agh, i- i- i can’t even think of a word strong enough. we have the chance to personally make him pay, to protect each other, to _stop being abused_ , and i'm sure as hell gonna take it.”

“maybe we _should_ kill him,” ben said, much to everyone’s surprise. “it would make things a whole lot better for all of us. we’d have time to fix vanya, time to heal properly. time to learn how to be a real family. being dead is the worst, and it’s what he deserves.”

klaus screwed his face up and then nodded. “i second that motion.”

“i do too,” luther agreed, shadows of fear crossing his face as he said the words– and yet– he didn’t take them back, he remained firm in his resolution.

“it’s… probably the best way to save this timeline,” five said. “and, you know, i’m not always above vengeance. not in this case, at least.”

“atta boy!” klaus praised. “nothing like murdering a disgustingly abusive father to help a family bond.”

diego turned to allison expectantly. his sister sighed. “alright. but i have to be the one to do it. or, make him do it to himself. you have to admit that it’s the least messy option.”

“but d- don’t you want to make him hurt?” diego asked. “he deserves to suffer for what he did to all of us–– especially five.”

“i want to not get put in juvie! one of my rumors and he’ll take a bunch of pills, we’ll destroy the relevant tapes, act oh-so-sad that he finally cracked and took himself out, and–”

“–and then we’ll live happily ever after with mom and pogo, just like we deserve,” luther said.

all the hargreeves siblings very obviously liked the sound of that. but five still had to make sure– “vanya?” his sister (yes, his favorite sister, after all this time) nodded gravely. “i vote yes. do it, allison.”

\- - - - - - -

the murder of their father was a casual affair. allison rumored him to death (not before telling him that she knew what he'd done to five and that he'd never been a real father to any of them) and grace helped them with their cover story, proving herself to be a surprisingly good liar. pogo’s shoulders seemed to slacken with relief instantly when he found out what had happened.

that night, they all slept in vanya’s room, despite it being so very small. klaus was curled up into ben’s side. allison was sprawled out over diego and diego was letting her. luther was sitting on the windowsill atop a pile of pillows and blankets, staring up at outer space. five was wide awake, sitting next to him.

“hey, guys,” vanya called out to them, whisper-quiet so as not to wake their siblings. “can i maybe…?”

“of course,” five said, scooting over to make room.

vanya sat down quickly. “i can’t sleep,” she admitted. “i haven’t even come close.”

“it’s a lot,” luther said. “all of this.” he frowned, slumped where he was sitting. “sorry, vanya. i was stupid. everything i did to you was stupid. i did exactly what dad would have wanted, and it ended the goddamned world, because dad was a horrible person and i couldn’t let myself accept that until now.” he sniffled, covered his face with his hand. “but worse than that? i hurt you. and i would understand if you could never forgive me, or if the whole family hates me now, i’m an asshole, i know–”

“hey! no. you did some stupid things, but i literally almost ended the whole world,” vanya said. “i wanted to hurt you all. maybe we’re both assholes.”

they exchanged tentative smiles. just then, klaus snored particularly loudly. “maybe that’s part of why none of us can sleep,” five said, and he and vanya and luther laughed.

“thank god we never had to share rooms,” vanya mused.

“no vanya, you don’t understand. we had to sleep in planes and cars all the time on the way to missions,” five explained. “klaus snored then too, i promise.”

the awkwardness that had hung around them seemed to melt away in that moment.

luther cleared his throat. “hey, five? uh– i know you’re not used to talking about your feelings ever, and neither am i. but… what you told us today was… serious. and if you ever need anyone to talk to, any time of day, i’m here for you.”

five swallowed down the lump in his throat as best he could.

“so am i,” vanya said. “i love you, five. we all love you so much. and i know i brought this up a while ago, and you didn’t really give me a real answer, but the offer still stands. i can call my therapist when that’s something you decide you’re ready for.”

five nodded, chewing on the inside of his cheek so as not to whimper out a pitiful little thank you.

“and…” luther stopped himself short, wincing. “i don’t– this isn’t as bad as what happened to you, not at all, this was–– fuck.”

“what is it?” vanya asked, concern woven all throughout her words.

“when i found out that dad sent me to the moon for nothing, i went out to…” he shrugged. “...get my mind off things. you know. i was really drunk and i brought this girl home with me. and when i woke up in the morning, i realized that i hadn’t even wanted anything to happen. but it did. i– that wasn’t _consensual_. and it wasn’t okay." he started crying, wrapping his arms around himself for comfort. “i’m not saying i relate to you exactly, i just– you’re really not alone. i might understand tiny parts of what you feel.”

"god, i'm sorry, luther," five said, then he finally let the tears spill (finally let himself _feel_ ). it felt like they were burning, scalding his face. he hadn’t cried about this since the very same time he’d talked about it to delores, with no one else around to say he was lying or that he’d somehow done something to deserve it. “i- i feel so angry sometimes. most of the time. _how could he_ , you know? but then other times, i feel sad. and– and–– weak.” he’d carried this weight with him far longer than anyone ever should, and as much as it hurt, five also felt his chest release the slightest bit as he choked the words out.

“how do you feel right now?” vanya asked, hand reaching out to soothe him, then hesitating and stopping midair.

five sighed heavily, felt a wild urge to say something bitterly funny. he ignored it, instead opting for stupid vulnerable honesty. “empty. unfixable. ruined by... everything that’s ever happened to me. like i’ll never be a real person with positive emotions or a normal life.”

“it breaks you,” luther empathized. “makes you feel… dirty. it made me hate my body even more.”

“look, neither of you are broken,” vanya said calmly, quietly. “you’re not… ugh. maybe i’m not the best person to be giving you this speech. i’m a big enough wreck of a person to destroy the moon, apparently. but both of you are so good, and frustrating and annoying and kind and brave, and you’re all of that in spite of these horrible things that happened to you. can i––” she stopped, seeming to think better of it. “i mean. do you want a hug? both of you? not that that fixes anything, and i’d understand if you don’t want someone touching–”

she was cut off by five wrapping his arms around her, giving her the hug he’d wanted to give her when he’d first come back to 2019. vanya was quick to hug him back tight.

luther remained hesitantly outside their embrace.

“luth?”

“i’m good,” he said, shifting uncomfortably in place where he sat.

five had heard what happened between luther and vanya during the last hug they’d exchanged. it wouldn't change overnight, none of their traumas were going to disappear this very night, but still––

vanya offered a tentative hand and luther held it gingerly, gratefully.

\- - - - - - -


	5. Chapter 5

ok so this fic is done but i have no idea how to actually make it update bc i used the chapter drafts. if anyone has any tips, lemme know.


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